Meditations on Gardening & Writing

Does one ever wake up and say to themselves, I want to be a gardener? I imagine some have the calling to do so early on and to make it a profession. But for those of us not yet able to retire, it seems to be an add-on, a hobby, or a passion that accompanies a full-time job. That is my situation, and after years of trying, failing, and succeeding, I have been contemplating how the process of gardening mirrors writing.

This year I’ve taken my gardening dreams to a more formal level. As opposed to keeping the soil-smudged labels in a pile and hoping I’ll remember which plant is which (I always think I’ll remember, but I do not), I’ve dedicated a journal to the process. I’m very picky about journals, and one day I’ll design the ideal one. For the meantime, I chose a Field Notes journal. I follow Tiny Garden on Facebook, and they offer great garden tips, which I print and paste into the journal along with handwritten notes and lists.

It is good to start with success from earlier years, and if you’re not a gardener and want to be, I suggest starting with an herb garden. Know your garden zone and plant perennial herbs first. Barring disease and severe temps, these lovelies will grow on their own. It is such a boon for me to see the herb garden grow itself. The most dependable herbs in my zone of 7B are sage, lavender, rosemary, thyme, and oregano. Annually, I add chives and basil. This garden is almost maintenance free, other than some minor weeding and watering. It keeps giving year-round, as I dry out the herbs and use them in our meals. The perennial herb garden is similar to the journal where I paste copies of my favorite poems – those poems that always blow me away, no matter how many times I read them.

Hosta

Just as I title my poems, I’ve named my gardens: Three Raised Beds is the garden strip in the middle of our drive that I use for annuals, sunflowers, and vegetables. The smaller ones are the AC Unit Garden, Rock Garden, and Rusty’s Corner Garden. I abide by the rule of planting annuals and vegetables in mid-May even though I’m tempted to start earlier. In the north GA mountains, it is risky to plant prior to Mother’s Day because there is sure to be a hard frost in late April, even as April tricks us with very warm days. So, to alleviate my urge to plant in the beds, I start seeds in the sunroom.

In my journal, I’ve sketched each garden, including the perennials already poking out of the ground, along with the gaps, or areas that need filling. Filling those gaps comes from spending a few hours here and there researching and talking with other gardeners. I’ve been able to transplant my tall phlox, which, after blooming, will smell lovely, proliferate, and look lovely in an arrangement. I’ve moved several to my AC Unit Garden, a not-so-attractive name for a garden, but it will transform a space that was once a mess of unattractive grass and weeds. In front of the phlox, I’ve added ajuga, which is new to me, discovered after research. Its green leaves will host purple flowers as we move into summer, and I cannot wait to see it bloom. In between the tall phlox and ajuga, I transplanted some black-eyed susans to provide additional color. My former, less disciplined self, loved to just toss in the seeds and wait to see what happened. While this works in part, it is not the best use of my time and energy, nor did it produce the garden I dreamt of having. Like writing, I have to research, take notes, make edits, and (the hardest part) be patient.

The sketches of my gardens are sophomoric, because drawing is not my forte, but they are decent enough. However, plans change. This year, sedum (a must-have for any garden, as it grows itself and produces lovely pink blooms) had to be moved, so it got crossed out on my sketch, just like a metaphor or image that is not working gets cut. The black-eyed susans were inserted after the phlox and ajuga, much like adding a line or image to a poem. In fact, the garden sketches have gotten a bit messy, just as a good draft of a poem does. I’ll be redrawing the sketches, incorporating the changes.

Both writing and gardening involve having patience, something I have a shortage of. I remind myself, though, of the times when I fell in love with one of my poems and sent it out the next day, only to be embarrassed when I re-read it later. I need to sit with my writing, put it away for a while – let it germinate. Then, after a quiet period (the growing season), I pull it out and revise as needed. This waiting part is something I have to practice. With my garden, I have no option. Seeds do not grow overnight.

Gardening, like writing, is a solo endeavor, but with a lot more physical work. We start with the wind, birdsong, seeds, and soil and create something that we and onlookers or readers also enjoy. The “finished” project omits the early drafts or failed attempts that had to be polished or replanted. It is a labor of love and of discipline, because both writing and gardening are hard. The end product can be incredibly rewarding. Sometimes, though, it may be the journey that counts most. Either way, it’s a win.

Herb cuttings and phlox from last year's garden